Pictures don't lie
by swampophelia
Summary: Dom has to race against time before a girl becomes truly lost. AU.  Prompted by StrangeLittleSwirl/thursdays girl in inception kink , prompt is "Film Noir".
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Pictures don't lie**  
**Author: swamp_ophelia, swamp_ariadne on LJ**  
**Pairing: **Ariadne/Cobb  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Warnings: **Minor for the movie, angst. Unbeta'd.  
**Disclaimer: **Inception and its characters are owned by Chris Nolan. Plot points are inspired by the classic noir movies such as the Maltese Falcon, etc. All events, institutions, regulations, locations, persons are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

**Summary:** Dom has to race against time before a girl becomes truly lost. AU. Prompted by StrangeLittleSwirl/thursdays_girl in inception_kink comm in LJ, prompt is "Film Noir".

**Author's Note**: Please forgive me but I ended up crossing Dom over with the Marshall in Shutter Island. That accent is pretty much the quintessential hard-boiled detective voice in my head, so I ended up going with that. Hopefully this explains the strange voice I have here for Dom and hopefully it doesn't make it OOC.

* * *

Dames. They order you around, expect you to follow them about, and be happy in the doing of it. The last dame I was with, she was a true class act. She hated being called a dame – she was foreign-born, so she insisted she was a lady. Truth be told, she was a hell of a lady. Mile long legs and soft smiles. And then… I don't want to think about it. Remembering her, well it just drives me up the wall.

Apparently not just me though.

I've been in the Detecting business these last couple of years, after I got kicked out of the Force because of the… well, the Incident. I digress. My former partner Sgt. Eames, well, now he's Detective Eames you see. All shiny golden badge of justice he is. He got fed up with my drunken ass and stopped being all consoling and like.

"_Cobb, you gotta start thinking about living. You have two mouths to feed and it won't do them any good to see their Da dead like their Ma," drawled Eames as he takes another empty bottle of rum from Cobb's nearly comatose form._

"_Don't talk about her," Cobb barely slurs out. The world is spinning, spinning like a top and he thinks he's on it while he's all sprawled out on the carpet of his living room floor._

"_I'm sorry partner, but I can't recommend lifting your suspension the way you are right now. Maybe… maybe you want to go back to France and be with her family? Take the kids with you?"_

_Cobb's bleary eyes become sharp, his steely glare having little effect on the other man. "Why can't you understand? She… she… I don't know what I did. Why didn't I see it coming Eames? Why did she jump? Maybe I've been working too many cases.."_

"_That is enough! I know you don't want to hear this but she was disturbed. She has been disturbed a long time…"_

"_Eames! She was not insane!," Cobb's eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed onto Eames' lapels and shook him, nearly pulling Eames down to the floor. "She wasn't one of those depressed people those psychoanalysts call it, she wasn't..."_

"_Get a grip Cobb, and when I say that I don't mean tear my coat off," rebuffs Eames, taking Cobb's hands off his person. "I've had it with you, I'm only trying to help you on account of James being my godson, but you need to start coming back to reality. You have to stop thinking you're living in a nightmare that you can't wake up from, or else your life will become a nightmare."_

_Eames turns and walks out of Cobb's apartment and it is the last Cobb has seen of him in three years._

Now, it looks like Detective Eames is angling to get my assistant, former rookie beat cop Arthur Hayes. Well, the kid's loyal, but what can you expect? The kid's practically my brother.

And there he is, bringing in the latest copy of the Times and greeting Mrs. Jones all before actually closing the office door.

Yup, my office door. The door to the office, the office I practically live in these days, since Stephen and Marie fought for custody and have taken my darlings James and Philippa to Nice. They told me if I could scrounge the money to vacation there for the summer, then maybe they'd let me get them back. That was their code for going back to the Force and being a legitimate cop with benefits again, but I couldn't do it. No one believes me you see, not even my partner and not even Arthur, when I say that there was a bit of foul play with my Mal dying. She jumped, but no happy woman in her right mind would do that. And she was happy… the alternative is _**unthinkable.**_ She was happy.

"Hey Cobb," Arthur calls out, his shadowy outline fuzzy on the glass door that separated my messy, inner sanctum with Arthur's organized reception area. "Did the two o'clock show up today?"

"Hmm…?"

"The appointment with the client? You know, clients that fund this operation and keep a roof over our heads?"

"Don't sass me boy," I respond, squinting against the harsh incandescent lighting when I open the door and see a mildly amused Arthur peering at me.

"It's 2:15. Cobb… did you answer the door when the doorbell rang?," Arthur looks at me all innocent.

I swear the boy is giving me lip. Technically, he's a grown man but his purple argyle sweater vests don't help his cause. He'd been taking to wearing three-piece suits which I couldn't understand how he could afford considering I hadn't paid him since the last job. Maybe that explains the return of the argyle.

"I didn't hear the doorbell Arthur. You couldn't entertain the possibility that our client is late?", I answer, barely concealing my smirk. It doesn't take much to rile up my assistant.

"Which I apologize for," drifts a silken voice behind Arthur.

We both turn and see this bulky, Asian man, all dressed in what looks like an outfit of his native country. Couldn't tell what it is, except that the black robes looked like it could barely keep out the chill.

"My ship had been unavoidably delayed," he explains. "I would have been here as expected, except that I had to rectify the situation with the cruise line."

"I hope that the waters hadn't been stormy," offers Arthur, "Mr…?"

"You may address me as Mr. Saito. The waters had been a bit choppy, but other than having to purchase the line everything went well," he responds lazily, leisurely sitting down in one of the chairs in the reception area.

"Did you just say you purchased a line?", I asked, not exactly sure if I had woken up on the right side of the sofa.

"Yes, I purchased the cruise line."

I don't know what to say to that.

"Mr. Saito sir, since you're obviously a magnate of some sort I'm not exactly sure why you're in my office with an appointment when clearly you have the means to hire better men," I said, all the while I had taken a glass from my bar and poured my guest a brandy that's been decanting for God knows how long. I offer him the glass and he takes it politely, his eyes boring into mine.

"I came to you because you had been recommended," Saito answered. "You had worked before in an experimental division in your police force, one that closed down when you left."

Arthur and I eyed each other, and we knew now why this man sought us, _me_, out.

"Sir, I don't work those kinds of cases anymore. I just do basic detection, like if you need me to find out if your wife is cheating on you or if you suspect your accountant or business partner is skimming off the top. I don't do…"

"Extractions?," Saito cuts me off. _I really hate it when they do that._

"Interrogations, no sir I don't do that," I correct him. Arthur looks like he's looking for the Colt under his desk, his hand inching towards his drawer. I catch his eye and shake my head. Man like Saito probably has more goons waiting in the hallway, and the last thing I want is my former partner Eames strolling in here examining my corpse.

Saito takes a rectangular piece of paper from his chest (_so the robe is like a jacket, then_) and hands it to me. It is a photograph of a woman… no barely a woman. A girl. Dark hair, with eyes that seem to sparkle with intelligence. She was also somewhat… familiar. My eyes pop out as I ruminate on the implications of this.

"You want me to extract her?"

"No Mr. Cobb, I want you to protect her. She's a valuable… asset."

Saito stands up and faces me, his shoulders relaxed yet squared as if ready to do battle at a moment's notice. I puzzle over this as the last thing I think of myself as is threatening.

"Mr. Cobb, I need you to help me find her, and then I need you to help train her," says Saito.

"Where is she, Mr. Saito?," inquires Arthur from behind his desk, his hand still hovering near this drawer.

"She's been taken, and I'm not exactly sure where. She was last seen with Robert Fischer a two months ago."

This was completely startling news, and now the pieces seem to fall into place. "Robert Fischer, oil tycoon heir. This girl," I start pacing the room now while holding on to the picture, searching for back issues of the Times where Arthur laid them out on the coffee table, "she was one of Fischer's girlfriends?"

"She was a fiancé last I heard," Saito responds.

"Why are you interested in the girl Mr. Saito?," Arthur asks, his suspicion all over his face. I swear I have to teach him to squint one of these days.

"Her father was a very close family friend. When he died, she became my ward. She had been educated all over the world, but Paris was where she wanted to be and so I thought that she would be there still," Saito expounds. "When you find her, you need to bring her back there."

"So she isn't there now," I remark, wincing at the coincidence. "Why would you want her trained?"

"Because she is bound to be a target of similar… advances, the kind that Robert Fischer makes."

"So, you're saying you don't want her to have a boyfriend or get married?," asks Arthur. Clearly I'm not the only one confused about this.

"Robert Fischer is with her in the guise of romance, of marriage seeking. He knows that as my ward, she isn't exactly an heiress so he's not after that. What he's after is her mind," presses Saito, his eyes trying to communicate a point that I seem to be missing.

"Is she some kind of… genius?," I ask, looking again at the picture of a girl that's barely a woman who's apparently the object of desire of a number of powerful men.

"You would know, Mr. Cobb. She was targeted for the same program you had been. In fact, it seems that according to your own father-in-law, she topped your raw scores," answered Saito, his eyes smug as I fully grasp why Saito had approached me with this job.

"Robert Fischer," Saito continues, "dips his fingers in many pies. He has heard that your father-in-law has developed a new technology but isn't sure what it is. Your name has cropped up whenever this technology has been mentioned, in relation to your work in the Police. My Ariadne," he points to the picture," has been Professor Miles' assistant the past year. I fear that he is merely using her to get a hand on the technology and the practice."

"How do you know all this?", my voice waivered as bit as the gaps of the past three years of my extended family's life was filled in by this stranger.

"I had funded your father-in-law."

"Had?," Arthur asks, noticing the detail.

"Why would I need to be involved in training her when she's Miles' assistant?," I inquire. "Doesn't she already know how to…?,"

"Professor Miles stopped, Mr. Cobb. He's no longer involving himself, but it seemed that my Ariadne had tried to continue on with his work. By herself," Saito eyes me, "which from my understanding is dangerous."

This girl, this girl needs to be found. This thing, this field that I promised myself never to get back to because in some way it became my Mal's undoing, I have to go back. I have to find this Ariadne before she becomes a pawn in a game played by powerful men. I look at the picture again, and her eyes are so vibrant, how could I have missed what she was?

"Where was Fischer last seen?" I ask.

"New York."

So, it looks like I'm chasing another dame. Here I come Big Apple.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Pictures don't lie**  
**Author: swamp_ophelia, swamp_ariadne on LJ**  
**Pairing: **Ariadne/Cobb  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Warnings: **Minor for the movie, angst. Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are completely my responsibility.  
**Disclaimer: **Inception and its characters are owned by Chris Nolan. Plot points are inspired by the classic noir movies such as the Maltese Falcon, etc. All events, institutions, regulations, locations, persons are either fictitious or used fictitiously. In the spirit of old Hollywod noir the tone of the story will be dark in some respects, mostly because some historical accuracies will be maintained while some inaccuracies will be retained.

**Summary:** Dom has to race against time before a girl becomes truly lost. AU. Prompted by StrangeLittleSwirl/thursdays_girl in inception_kink comm in LJ, prompt is "Film Noir".

**Author's Note**: I've always wanted to do a noir-based Inception fic since it would fit in so well in the gritty, black-and-white, angst-filled noir world. As I'm trying to finish my other fics, I apologize in advance if this piece feels rushed. I will attempt another noir-based long fic eventually, just after all the other stuff I'm doing.

* * *

I've been on this platform for a good twenty minutes, waiting for Arthur. We were to take the first train for New York the next day we got the job, and Arthur had already been busy calling in several favors over long distance and telegram. New York is his home town and without his connections we wouldn't have a decent leg up on this operation. Mr. Saito's seeming wealth notwithstanding, he's a foreigner and these times aren't exactly friendly for his kind. I had good long talk with Miles before committing to this job, and what he revealed sealed the deal more than the money I was offered.

"_What have you gotten yourself into Stephen?," I demand over the phone. "Your former financier was apparently desperate enough to cross over several oceans just to find your former assistant."_

"_So… have you?," Stephen's voice was tremulous with worry, and I'm reminded that I am talking to an old man who had seen more than his share of tragedy. Mal is never far from my thoughts, and I conjecture Stephen's mind probably runs along the same line. Well, if Marie is to be believed Stephen handles it better._

"_I just got the job yesterday Stephen." _

_Marie nearly hung up on me since I called ahead of the weekly one I had with Philippa and James. But when I told her I needed to talk to Stephen about his former assistant, she uttered a sob-like sound and within a few moments Stephen was on the line. Something tells me that there was more to this story than I was told and only Stephen could give me the details. Despite the circumstances, I have to press on with the purpose of this call._

"_I'm trying to understand something. I thought that when you left America you said you were going back to teaching? What were you thinking accepting Mr. Saito's offer? And why in the world would a man like that be interested?," I demanded, my voice rising as I build up my tirade._

"_And I told you, all those other times that I've found other supporters," Stephen entreated. "There are very legitimate and patriotic reasons for what I was doing. You know this; you could have put one of the most powerful crime families in America behind bars if you hadn't stopped." _

"_So what exactly is patriotic about an Asian man funding you? How is that patriotic for France? Or England for that matter?," I countered. "What country is he from anyway?"_

"_Saito san is from the Empire of Japan. He represents many of the Emperor's business interests outside of his country. Technically, they were with us some years back in the League of Nations but there was a falling out over something in China. They've been trying to get back into the good graces of the League so it seems that the Emperor has authorized Saito san to fund my research."_

"_So he's representing royalty?," I mutter as I puzzle over this new information. I haven't exactly been keeping up with international affairs but my understanding of the Japanese is limited to the migrants I've seen here in Los Angeles. The images of small, hunched men working menial, often hard labor ran counter with what I'm hearing. _

"_And how exactly is this Ariadne involved, both with royalty and with you? Did he really just leave her with you to keep an eye on his investment?"_

_I could only imagine the look Stephen was probably giving me over the wire, but his tone gave me a very good idea. "Ariadne Bishop wasn't just some phalanx guard left to poke me with her spear if I didn't work. On the contrary, she was the most brilliant student I've ever taught in my academic career," his voice full of pride. _

"_She has been Saito's ward for some years. From my understanding her parents were part of a contingent of technical experts that Japan had hired some decades past to teach them our technology and western culture. She never really talked about it, but it seemed there was an accident and they died and Mr. Saito took her in because of some 'honorable promise'. Ms. Bishop wanted to reconnect to her roots so Mr. Saito had sent her off to France to study, possibly to return and continue what her parents had started."_

"_So that's how she met you," I surmised. "But it doesn't explain why she's involved with the research…"_

"_I may have mentioned something about World Creation in my class… ,"he began, "but she was the only one that caught on. She even came up with other possible applications, even though I never fully discussed the theory. I asked her to meet me after classes and I tested her and she beat your scores Dom. She's been helping me reconstruct the theory and it was her interest that brought in the interest of the Japanese Imperial government, through Saito."_

"_So, Mr. Saito's concern is legitimate? She didn't just decide to elope with this boyfriend?," I inquire._

"_Dom, I've worked closely with Ms. Bishop over the last year. It's a rarity to find a mind like that on a woman. She is neither flighty nor lovesick nor any other stereotype of her gender. So for this Mr. Fischer to just swoop in… he's… he just showed up out of nowhere!," Stephen exclaims._

"_You mean you had close relations with Ms. Bishop but never knew she was sweet on anyone?"_

"_One day, she was excited about showing Mr. Saito the concepts behind Extraction, the next day Mr. Saito is telling me that she ran away with Mr. Fischer," Stephen cried._

"_You said Robert Fischer just showed up out of nowhere? Isn't your work supposed to be confidential?" _

"_I only met him once, the day prior to her presentation," he clarified._

"_What presentation?"_

"_Ariadne was supposed to conduct a demonstration."_

_The act of Extraction entailed a degree of control as it was an __**immersion**__ that those without prior experience could not possibly prepare for. The participants, including the Extractor, would be vulnerable… which was the whole point of the research. Stephen's theoretical base was still murky and sometimes one sees… visions, pictures that one wasn't meant to see. My blood turned cold as an idea formed in my head._

"_Stephen, maybe she wasn't running to something. Maybe she was running away," I suggest._

"_From what?," he bristled._

"_I don't know, you're the one who knows her," I retort. "Where would she go with Fischer? Saito suspects she's in New York." _

_There were several moments of silence before Stephen uttered two words._

"_King's Gambit."_

Trains… I used to love trains. I remember gallivanting around Europe with my Mal next to me. She always wore those red and black numbers, even then. She said it brought out her eyes. I always just thought she wanted to look all daredevil. I don't know why I'm thinking about my dead wife again.

I take out the picture of the girl, Ariadne, from my jacket pocket and look at it. There, that _spark_ of life in those eyes. Ariadne was wearing a pale dress, and I guess this was her in the university. She was standing against a wall, her arms spread and she looked like she was in the middle of a spirited discussion with someone out of the frame. I wasn't sure if it was Stephen or someone else that brought that look on her face. It was almost joyful.

Ahh, Stephen Miles. So unhelpful. Even when he thinks he's going out of his way to be helpful. His… _experiments_… had been novel and _helpful_ in gathering evidence in our organized crime department. The mobsters have held sway over the city for too long and the Commissioner was right willing to try anything to bring them to heel. Stephen lobbied the City to support his research on a new method of "evidence gathering", and eventually he got his funding support from the City but was required to work with us cops. I can't recall now if it was Stephen or me who was more surprised when I tested at the top of the candidate pool, my partner coming in second. We were a small team, and we were starting to bring in results. We were in the middle of getting crucial information for the District Attorney when Mal… oh Mal.

Eames couldn't handle things alone after I was discharged and he tried to bring in new blood. Arthur was a rook that tested well, and they tried but it didn't work out so well. Arthur left the Force eventually to join me in my private detecting, and I'm not sure if it was Eames or Stephen who was more pissed off about it. Eames was reassigned, and I never did find out what happened after Stephen took the family (_**my family**_) to France. I haven't been on the best speaking terms with my former father-in-law (when did I start thinking of him as **former**?) since I was dropped from the Force. Earlier on he kept offering me work on the Continent, but I figured that "work" had to do with continuing his experimentation. Somewhere along the line, I started questioning the ethics of what we were doing – extracting, and I made it known in no uncertain terms that I wanted no part in it anymore. Eventually he stopped offering and I thought that was just because he got tired of pushing me. I should have figured it was because he found someone else.

I keep the picture in my pocket. I figure I probably look like an idiot for staring at a picture. I look around the platform for Arthur, but I don't see him in the crowd and the thick steam. I sit down one of empty benches and didn't resist the urge to examine the picture again for clues, which I know wouldn't be there.

"Mr. Cobb!," calls Arthur. He rushes to my side, handing me a piece of paper.

"We found it."


End file.
